


Hands All Over

by WhiteWolfCraft



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteWolfCraft/pseuds/WhiteWolfCraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drunken kiss leads to an incredibly awkward situation the next day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands All Over

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in the summer of 2012, when Marc Muniesa, Marc Bartra, Martí Riverola, Sergi Gómez, Sergi Roberto, Carles Planas and Ivan Balliu went to Ibiza for a few days after the season ended. 
> 
> Title is taken from Maroon5's song, Hands all over.

The music in the club was loud, the bass pounding in sync with Marc’s heartbeat, the beat of the song resonating in his bones. The dance floor was packed with people, the air hot and humid, and Marc was pressed up against Sergi, sweaty bodies surrounding them as they moved in tune the music. They were both slightly tipsy and Marc was quickly losing his inhibitions, his hands occasionally accidentally on purpose brushing over Sergi’s hips. The midfielder didn’t seem to mind the contact as he was smiling, face illuminated by the flashing lights, and moving back against Marc, his own hands softly brushing over Marc’s body as the crowd pushed them closer together. 

Marc wasn’t sure where the rest was, having lost them the moment they stepped on the dance floor, the dance mass separating them immediately. Martí and Carles should still be sitting in the booth they had claimed, both not great fans of dancing and preferred to just talk and drink a few beers. 

They were on holiday in Ibiza, the group that had gone through the ranks of La Masia together, before the next season would see them separated. Martí would go all the way to Italy while he and Bartra got promoted to the first team, leaving Ivan, Carles and the two Sergis behind in the B team. However, Marc was sure they would get promoted to the first team soon enough. 

They had gone for dinner after spending the whole day on the beach, swimming, tanning and playing a game of football with other boys their age. A quick FIFA tournament had happened between shower and dinner, all of them unable to resist the challenge. After dinner, they had decided to go clubbing, something they couldn’t do often with games and training so they went full out, picking one of the best clubs on Ibiza with a good DJ and where no paparazzi could stalk them. 

Marc looked up when the music changed to something with a slower beat, Sergi tugging on his shirt to get his attention. The dance floor was emptying out, many taking a break and getting something to drink while the couples stayed on the floor, slowly swaying to the music. 

Sergi was saying something but he couldn’t hear him over the music. It might be a slow song, but they were still close to the speakers and the DJ hadn’t lowered the volume. Marc shrugged his shoulders and made a gesture with his hands to indicate that he hadn’t heard the midfielder. Sergi smiled and leaned in close, hands resting on Marc’s shoulders to keep his balance. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Sergi said loudly in the defender’s ear, cheek brushing against Marc’s, the alcohol making his movements less co-ordinated than usual. 

“Sure!” Marc shouted, turning his head a little so Sergi could hear him, his lips dragging over Sergi’s cheek, tasting the sweat there. Sergi moved away, a beaming smile on his face and grabbed Marc’s wrist, pulling him towards the bar, manoeuvring around the dancing couples. His fingers slipped a little on Marc’s sweaty skin and it sent tingles down Marc’s arm, his wrist feeling pleasantly warm with Sergi’s hand over it. 

“What do you want?” Sergi’s voice could be heard over the music now that they were further away from the speakers, but he still had to lean in close, their chests almost touching. 

“A beer!” Marc yelled back and Sergi released his wrist, Marc immediately missing the warmth from the contact. The midfielder slipped his wallet from the pocket of his jeans and disappeared in the crowd that stood around the bar. 

Marc stepped away from the busy bar, the pushing and tugging crowd getting a bit too much for him. He breathed in the fresher air, cooling down, the alcohol haze in his head clearing up a little. 

Suddenly, something cool was pressed against his neck and Marc spun around to find Sergi standing behind him, a bottle of beer in each hand, one arm still outstretched towards Marc. Cold droplets of water ran down Marc’s neck, his shirt soaking them up and Sergi was grinning rather boyishly, betraying that he was the one to press the beer bottle against Marc’s neck. Marc shook his head at him and accepted the beer, taking a big sip from the bottle, the cool liquid heaven for his parched throat. 

“Thanks!” he yelled over the music, pressing the cold glass against his forehead, a relieve for his too hot skin. Sergi held up a thumb, his other hand clasped around the bottle as he took a big gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. Marc quickly looked away, taking a sip himself and pressed the bottle against his right cheek, trying to stop a flush from rising, a familiar feeling raising in his chest. 

“Let’s go sit!” Sergi called, waving his free hand in the direction of the booth where they had left Martí and Carles, almost hitting a girl that walked by. She glared at him, flicking her long hair over her shoulder and turned her nose into the air, walking away. Marc looked at Sergi and they started sniggering at the girl’s behaviour. 

“Okay!” Marc agreed, taking another sip from his beer before taking Sergi’s hand, Sergi’s skin warm and sweaty under his fingers as they made their way through the pulsing crowd, occasionally bumping into other people. The beer in his bottle sloshed around dangerously and Marc did his best not to spill any on the ground or on his shirt. 

They reached the booth where Martí was telling some story about his short trip to Italy, gesturing around with his hands. There were a few empty bottles of beer in front of them, more than Marc and Sergi had drunk and the two players looked pretty tipsy already. 

“Marc, come sit here!” Martí called out and Marc obeyed him, slipping into the booth next to the dark-haired boy who draped an arm around his shoulders, leaning in close, breath smelling of the beer he had had. Sergi sat down next to Carles and smile at Marc when he mouthed ‘help’ at him. A drunk Martí could ramble on for hours, never letting you go before you had heard every story he wanted to tell. 

“So I was staying at a hotel and there was this girl that just kept following me around!” he started, waving a hand around, almost knocking down the bottles on the table and Marc resisted the urge to groan, taking a long sip from his beer instead while Sergi was sniggering at him.

* * *

It was getting close to three when Marc covered up a huge yawn with his hand, eyelids drooping and his whole body tired. The whole group had returned to the booth and it was a tight fit, everybody pressed against each other. Marc didn’t really mind being pressed up to Sergi who was sitting next to him, having lost his place next to Carles when he went for a new round of beer, Marc Bartra quickly slipping into the booth, a cheeky grin when Sergi came back with the bottles. 

The rest of the group had slowly come back to the booth, Sergi Gómez and Ivan the last ones to get back. The little table was filled with empty beer bottles and tiny shot glasses and Marc had a pleasant alcohol buzz going on. The music was a lot quieter than in the beginning of the night, they could finally hear each other without shouting. 

“Hey guys, I’m gonna go back to the hotel,” he yawned again and stretched out as best as he could in the cramped space. 

“Awh, is little Muni getting tired?” Bartra joked, ducking away when Marc reached out to slap him. 

“Fuck you, Bartra,” he mumbled as he climbed out of the booth, clumsily knocking over a few bottles. Ivan yelped as Marc kicked his shin, glaring at the defender while he rubbed the sore spot. 

“Sorry Ivan,” Marc apologized, offering his best pleading look and Ivan frowned at him before he laughed, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Marc ducked away from the hand, his own hands flying to his hair to fix any damage Ivan might have inflicted on his curls. 

“I should go too, it’s getting late and we share a room anyway,” Sergi clambered out of the booth after Marc, hitting no-one. He stretched out next to Marc and Marc could hear a joint pop. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Marc said quietly, not wanting to be heard by the rest of the guys. 

“No, it’s okay, I’m tired too,” Sergi whispered back, leaning slightly on Marc to keep his balance. 

“Okay,” Marc smiled before fishing his wallet out of his pocket, handing Carles a few Euro notes, paying for the beers he and Sergi had. 

“Goodnight!” They called out at their friends, getting a few goodnights back, their attention already back on another one of Martí’s stories. Marc shook his head at them and made his way through the dancing mass, Sergi close behind him. They got their jackets from the cloakroom and left the club. 

It was cold outside and a frisk breeze ruffled Marc’s hair. The clean air, not humid and hot like the air in the club that had reeked of sweat and perfume, cleared up his head and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he breathed out. It felt good. He opened his eyes to see Sergi do the same and he had to smile, wrapping an arm around Sergi’s shoulders. 

“Let’s go to the hotel,” Sergi nodded, his eyelids drooping a bit and he leaned on Marc, clearly tired. 

Marc pulled him closer and led the way to their hotel, which wasn’t that far away from the club. 

The hotel lobby was almost empty, only the night guard at the door and the man behind the desk. Marc waved at him, showing the key card for their room and the man smiled, making a shooing motion towards the elevators. 

The doors slid open with a soft ding and Marc got them inside, Sergi almost asleep against him. He pressed on the button for their floor and relaxed against the wall, wrapping another arm around Sergi. He chuckled when Sergi snuggled against him, mumbling something Marc couldn’t hear. Alcohol always made him sleepy and with the amount of beer he had drunk this night, Marc was sure he could fall asleep like this. He pulled Sergi a little closer, blushing when Sergi moved his head, his lips brushing over Marc’s neck, Marc’s heart beating a little quicker after that motion. 

The trip with the elevator was quick and they stopped at the right floor with another soft ding, the doors sliding open. Marc pushed Sergi away gently, keeping an arm around him to make sure Sergi didn’t fall over at the sudden movement. 

“Come on, we are almost there,” Marc shook Sergi’s shoulder softly as he led them out the elevator, the elevator doors sliding shut behind them. 

“Okay,” Sergi muttered, blindly following Marc. Marc opened the door to their room and stumbled inside, tripping over a pair of jeans. He had to chuckle, not even two days here and the room was already a mess with clothes everywhere and the beds pushed together to have more place during the Playstation tournament. The gaming device was still connected to the TV and the controllers spread around on the floor. 

“Bed,” Sergi mumbled and stumbled across the room, dragging Marc with him. Sergi tripped over his own feet, trying to untie his shoes and walk at the same time, and pulled Marc down with him, falling across Sergi’s bed in a tangle of limbs. Marc lifted his head from Sergi’s shoulder and started laughing. 

“Get off, you’re heavy,” Sergi pushed his shoulder weakly and Marc rolled off of him, still laughing. Sergi started laughing too, infected by Marc’s laughter and reached over to punch Marc softly, Marc rubbing the spot and pouting at Sergi, making Sergi laugh harder. 

Their laughter slowly faded away as the sleepy alcohol haze caught up with them again, silence filling the room. Marc stretched out and propped himself on an elbow, looking over at Sergi, planning to tell him that they should undress and get under the sheets. 

“Hey,” he started but stopped as he took in Sergi. His curls were a mess, sticking up in several angles and his cheeks were dusted with a pink colour, most likely from the alcohol. His eyes were close and he was breathing softly. He looked peaceful and Marc thought he was asleep for a second when a tongue darted out, wetting soft looking lips. 

Marc couldn’t stop himself as he leaned down, pressing his lips against Sergi’s softly. They were as soft as they looked and moist and he pressed down harder before realising that Sergi wasn’t responding. He opened his eyes, unaware that he had closed them, and looked into shocked blue eyes. 

“Wha?’ Sergi mumbled, sleepily blinking at Marc and Marc pulled away, horrified that he had forced himself on a friend. Sergi made a noise of protest and reached out, wrapping an arm around Marc’s shoulders and captured his lips, lying back down and pulling Marc with him. 

Marc shifted so he was hovering over Sergi, an arm braced next to Sergi’s head to keep himself above Sergi and Marc sneaked his tongue inside. Sergi tasted like the beer he had drunk in the club, the faint traces of the wine that was served during the dinner and Marc couldn’t get enough of him. 

Sergi pulled away to yawn, eyes closed and his arm fell away from Marc. Marc let his head rest on Sergi’s shoulder, an arm draped over Sergi’s chest and he closed his eyes, tired. 

“We should get under the blanket,” he whispered after a few minutes. Soft snores answered him and he lifted his head to find Sergi asleep. He smiled and got on his knees, tugging the blanket free from his own bed. He kicked his shoes off and spread the blanket over them both, snuggling close to Sergi again. He yawned again and closed his eyes, Sergi’s rhythmic breathing lulling him asleep.

* * *

Sergi woke up with a headache, a steady pounding in his head and the sunlight streaming into his room was too bright for his eyes. He groaned and rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the soft blanket under him. He stretched out and frowned when his hand hit a warm, soft something. He turned his head and blearily opened one eye, blinking rapidly to make his sleepy, fuzzy vision correct itself. 

Marc was laying next to him, mouth open and snoring softly. His hair was a curly mess, even more so than usually, and his face was relaxed, a faint smile making his lips curl. The sunlight made him look tanner than usually and his skin looked soft and smooth to the touch. A familiar feeling pooled in Sergi’s stomach as he gazed at him, taking in the wrinkled clothes and the blanket that covered his legs and waist. Marc was simply stunning in this light and Sergi could look at him for hours. 

He got up on an elbow, planning to settle into a more comfortable position to look at Marc when he noticed that he too was wearing his clothes from last night, reeking of sweat and alcohol. He wrinkled his nose and pushed the blanket away from his legs, careful not to move too much, and got out of bed. He glanced back at Marc, making sure that he was still asleep and frowned when he saw that they had slept over the width of his bed, on top of his blankets. He figured the second blanket, the one they had slept under, came from Marc’s bed, seeing that it lacked one. 

Sergi frowned deeper when he tried to remember why they would sleep like that and realised that he couldn’t remember a lot from the night before. Judging from the headache and the awful taste in his mouth, the amount of alcohol he had drunk last night was the likely reason why he only remembered bits and pieces. 

The frowning made the headache worse and he rummaged through his luggage, finding his small bottle of aspirins and took a pill, swallowing it dry. Sergi scrunched up his face at the taste and, after glancing at Marc to make sure he was still asleep, stole his water bottle and took a huge gulp, washing the taste away. He still reeked so he striped until he was in his boxers and picked a clean pair of boxers and a clean towel from the mess that was their room and slipped into the bathroom. 

He turned the shower on, the water hot enough for steam to quickly fill the room, and collected his shampoo and douche gel bottles from all the different hair care products that they had brought with them. He put them down on a little shelf in the shower and stepped under the stream, hissing as the hot water hit his skin and immediately turned it pink. 

He leaned against the cool tiles and relaxed, his eyes close as the water rained down on him, his headache slowly ebbing away. With his head clear and no longer hurting, he could try to remember last night. They had a fun day on the beach and dinner afterwards, just relaxing and having fun with each other after a hard season. And they had gone clubbing after dinner, a club with good music and no cameras anywhere near, so there would be no embarrassing pictures of them. He had pulled Marc onto the dance floor when a song he liked came blasting over the speakers, Marc coming along easily. The rest, except for Martí and Carles, had followed them but had gotten lost in the crowd quickly. 

Sergi flushed when the memory of dancing with Marc came back, the way Marc’s hands had brushed over his hips clear in his mind. Shivers had ran over his body when he shyly let his own hands wander over Marc’s chest, growing bolder when he didn’t pull away. 

He blushed harder when he remembered asking Marc if he wanted something to drink, having to lean in close to be heard over the music. Marc had brushed his lips over his cheek, he was sure of it and it might not have meant anything to Marc but the memory of damp lips against his sweaty cheek made Sergi feel warm inside. Marc had looked so good in the flashing lights of the club, curls plastered against his forehead and smelling just like he did after a match. 

The rest of the night slowly came back and the blush never went away, memories of how they sat pressed together filling his mind. Sergi could hardly remember what the rest had talked about, only the way Marc moved against him every time he lifted his hand to drink from his beer or shift in his seat. 

He turned off the water and grabbed his shampoo bottle, squeezing out a decent amount so he could wash his hair. He massaged his skull, his headache finally gone, and the shampoo started to foam. Images of last night were still playing in his head and he was embarrassed at how drunk he had been, needing Marc’s help to get back to the hotel and into their room. He turned red again when he remembered how good Marc had felt when he had snuggled against him in the elevator and the heavy weight of him when Marc was on top of him after Sergi had tripped over something, landing on the bed and pulling Marc down with him. 

He didn’t remember anything after that but he guessed he fell asleep after that, always sleepy when he drank too much. Sergi smiled and turned the shower back on to rinse the soap out of his hair, pleased that he still remembered yesterday night. 

He quickly washed the rest of his body, feeling refreshed and clean when he stepped out of the shower, drying himself quickly with a towel before pulling on the clean boxers. He draped the towel over his head, ruffling his hair dry with one hand as he used the other to brush his teeth, using Marc’s mouthwash to get the taste of alcohol out of his mouth. 

Sergi exited the bathroom after hanging up his towel, finding Marc still asleep on the bed. He chuckled and quickly dressed in shorts and a shirt before going back to the bathroom, refilling the defender’s water bottle and quickly styled his hair by dragging his fingers through the damp mess. He went back to the room and took another aspirin out his bottle, crossing to room to wake up Marc. 

Marc rolled over, muttering something under his breath when Sergi shook his shoulder. 

“Wake up Marc,” he said cheerfully, grinning when Marc tried to kick out, the movement only resulting in his foot getting tangled up with the blanket. 

“Come on, rise and shine beautiful,” Sergi dodged Marc’s arm when he tried to hit him and started to poke Marc’s shoulder, knowing that this would get him annoyed enough to get up. 

“Stop it, ‘m up,” Marc muttered after Sergi had been poking him for a minute and Sergi grinned victoriously, offering the defender the water bottle and the little white pill as a peace offering as Marc sat up, untangled his feet from the blanket and scooting over to the edge of the bed. 

“My head,” Marc groaned, accepting the items and quickly swallowing the pill with a huge gulp of water. Sergi sat down next to him and patted his shoulder comfortingly. 

“You shouldn’t drink so much, you know. It’s not good for you,” Sergi used his best parental voice and fixed an all-knowing expression on his face when Marc looked over with a raised eyebrow. 

“Look who is talking. I almost had to carry you back to the hotel last night. How come you aren’t hung over?” Marc grumbled at him, taking another sip from the water. 

“Ah, the magic of a little white pill and a shower. Speaking of showers, you really should take one, you reek,” Sergi waved his hand under his nose and pushed Marc off the bed, grinning when Marc stumbled a bit. 

Marc glared at him and stalked through the room to the bathroom, turning around to throw his water bottle at Sergi, Sergi not fast enough to catch the plastic bottle and it hit him painfully on the head. 

“Autch!” he yelped, rubbing the spot and glaring back at Marc. 

“Ha! That is what you deserve after waking me up like that,” Marc said, ducking inside the bathroom when Sergi threw the bottle back at him, a dull thud when the plastic hit the door. Sergi rolled his eyes and stretched out on the bed, folding his arms behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, lost in last night’s memories, a faint blush on his cheeks as he remembered having his hands all over Marc again.

 

He could hear Marc rummaging around in the bathroom, the sound of running water gone, when a new memory suddenly surfaced, making him open his eyes in surprise. He sat up again, tracing a finger over his lips as the scene played over and over in his mind in clear detail. 

He had almost been asleep last night when he had felt something soft press against his lips, opening his eyes in surprise to see Marc above him. Marc had looked scared and started to pull away, something Sergi didn’t want and in his drunken haze, he had reached out and pulled Marc back, lifting his head a little so he could kiss Marc back. 

It had been sloppy but wonderful and Sergi could almost recall Marc’s taste when he ran his tongue over his lips. But he didn’t know what the kiss meant to Marc. If it just had been some drunken impulse for him or if Marc liked him the same way Sergi had liked him for a long while now. 

He looked up, eyes still wide with surprise, when the door of the bathroom opened and Marc appeared, his brown eyes filled with apprehension when he glanced at Sergi. The look was enough for him to know that Marc also remembered the kiss and Sergi swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. 

“You kissed me,” he managed to utter, his voice flat as he tried to figure out how Marc felt about it. He saw him swallow and Marc ran a hand through his hair, betraying his nerves. 

“Yeah...” he trailed off, clearly at a loss for words. 

Silence reigned in the room for a full minute, Marc frozen in the doorway of the bathroom, hand still on the doorknob, while Sergi was still sitting on the bed, a thousand thoughts running through his mind. He finally settled on one and he tried to catch Marc’s gaze. 

“Why?” he asked when he finally caught Marc’s brown eyes with his own, staring at him. Marc let his hand slip away from the doorknob and took a step into his room. Sergi could see his hands shake as they ran through his hair again, Marc wincing when his fingers got tangled in a knot.  

“I... because... because I li-... I-I don’t know,” Marc mumbled, turning his head away. Sergi tried to process his word as Marc got dressed quickly. It sounded like he wanted to say ‘like’ before he cut himself off and hope rose in Sergi’s heart. He got up from the bed and slowly approached Marc, who was completely dressed now and edging towards the door. 

“Look, I’m sorry and I was drunk, I didn’t mean for it to happen and I promise it won’t happen again and I’ll go now,” Marc was rambling, a sure sign that he was nervous and Sergi smiled a little, ignoring everything Marc was saying as he reached him just as Marc grasped the doorknob. Sergi grabbed his arm, fingers sliding down until he could circle his hand around Marc’s wrist, carefully pulling his hand away from the doorknob, bringing his other hand up to turn Marc’s head around, making Marc face him. Marc looked scared, probably afraid of what Sergi would do, but Sergi could see a spark of hope in those brown eyes. 

“I’m not sorry you kissed me,” Sergi whispered as he leaned in close, letting go of his wrist to cradle Marc’s face between his hands and carefully pressed his lips against Marc’s. He pulled away after a few seconds to smile at the stunned look on Marc’s face that slowly disappeared as Marc started to smile too. 

“You’re not?” he asked, his voice hopeful and Sergi was smiling broadly now, shaking his head. 

“No, I’m not,” he spoke just before Marc’s lips met his again, this time with a little more force than the careful way Sergi had kissed. Marc wrapped his arms around him, pulling Sergi closed and Sergi ran a hand through Marc’s still damp hair, cupping the back of his head for a better angle to kiss. 

“In fact, I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me more often,” Sergi whispered when they pulled apart, both panting a little, and Marc let out a surprised chuckle. 

“I think I can do that,” he answered as he pressed his forehead against Sergi’s, Sergi meeting his sparkling brown eyes. 

“Good, that’s good,” Sergi got out, voice breathless, as Marc leaned in to capture his lips again, pressing him against the wall.


End file.
